


be on my side, I'll be on your side

by Adarian



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, Post-Black Panther (2018), Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 13:51:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13812516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adarian/pseuds/Adarian
Summary: During the events of Wakanda's near civil war, Steve waits anxiously for news of Bucky. When Shuri gives him the go ahead, he finds Bucky at the riverbanks of a small village. Bucky confesses the things he has learned about himself during his treatments and after years of being strong, Steve finally falls apart in his arms.





	be on my side, I'll be on your side

Steve had not really liked texting. It seemed strange to go back to telegraph-like technology when you could use Skype or Facetime and see someone's face while they spoke to you. Most of the people he knew would send him a quick text. Part of that was using a burner phone but how hard was it to type out the whole "okay" instead of just "k"?

That was probably why he got on so well with Shuri. Before leaving Wakanda, she had set him up with an encrypted phone that somehow had unlimited data and capability from almost anywhere in the world. When Shuri wanted to talk to him, he instantly had video footage of the excited teenager telling him about the breakthroughs she had made. Most of it went over Steve's head but she usually translated it to him at the end. 

In short, she was breaking open the field of memory mapping and was potentially finding a cure for PTSD with her work and it had implications in better understanding early on-set Alzheimer's. The girl was saving the world and Steve knew that Bucky would not mind being for once used as a tool for good.

The problem was in understanding memory. Shuri could work with a person to develop a map of their own history, key triggers and patterns that emerged. It was too dangerous, however, to bring Bucky out of ice in order to ask him questions about specific, traumatizing memories. So she had settled on two approaches. The first was to study the parts of the brain associated with the ten trigger words and...well, Steve didn't quite understand exactly what she was doing but she had told him that she was disassociating the words so when they were said at once the words would be individual and not part as a greater sequencing. It was a lot of math and algorithms that went well over his head. 

The second was strengthening touchstone memories, the ones that made Bucky the person he was before his torture. When flashes came up, Steve was often consulted to verify if the memory was true, a dream, or somewhere in between. 

Often his answer was a pained "I don't know." 

They had been so involved in each other's lives. Steve knew him better than anyone in the world but he wasn't Bucky. He didn't know every detail of his life or how he felt in certain situations. He knew Bucky's life through what Bucky would tell him. How many times had he softened the truth for Steve? How many times had he felt one thing and said another? How was he supposed to make the decisions on what was true or wasn't? Sure, he could tell Shuri what Bucky's sister's cat's name was or where his dad worked. But his deepest, darkest fears? Steve couldn't be responsible for damaging his soul more than it had. He couldn't. He couldn't hurt him.

He had tried to tell Shuri that but she had brushed him off. It wasn't like that, she explained. Steve was not going to make or break the project. Anything that he might know would be helpful but she was the scientist, not him. Her dismissal was comforting. She was one of the smartest people on the planet. If Steve screwed up, she would fix it without even blinking. So instead he started telling her stories. Often with the time difference, it'd be first thing in the morning for her and the middle of the night for him. He couldn't sleep and she'd be bright eyed and bushy tailed. It was not every night, not even every other night, but it was often enough. She'd ask questions about their childhoods and Steve would answer. Someone else might find an old timer's stories boring but Shuri had grown up in an entirely different world. She found them "quaint" which was a little patronizing but Steve couldn't blame her. His favourite childhood toy was a baseball. Hers was a jetpack.

Steve knew something was wrong when he received a text from Shuri, the only one she had ever sent him. His heart sank as he read it.

**He's safe. Don't come.**

What did that mean? There were no accurate news sources about Wakanda. His only connection to the country was through the Royal Family and one of them had given him a strict order to stay away. Clearly Shuri thought he might hear something and would try to help. What had happened? Was he still safe? 

Steve didn't sleep for two days. Eventually Natasha heard about the near civil war and texted him almost the exact same message as Shuri: **He's safe. Don't go.**

Steve thought about texting back that it was his duty to assist his ally T'Challa but considered that he probably had nothing to offer that he didn't already have. And then some. So he stewed instead and waited for another update.

Steve was in the middle of cooking breakfast when his phone started ringing. His heart stopped. He turned off the element immediately and sat down at the counter before answering.

Shuri's face popped up on the screen, waving excitedly hello. "Good news! None of my equipment got permanently damaged. Everyone is so busy with politics so I've been hiding in my lab and working on actually important things. I think I've made a big breakthrough so I'm waking Sergeant Barnes up. The triggers should be deactivated now but be won't be able to fully access his memories yet. Or maybe he will and I am an even bigger genius than I think."

Steve let go of his breath shakily. "That's...that's amazing. Thank you, your highness. When can I come see him?"

Shuri shook her head with an amused smile. "Not yet. Give me a few weeks just in case. I need to do some baseline tests first and I don't need you around to throw off his heart rate and blood pressure. You know, I'll be going to America soon! Maybe you can take me to see New York as a thank you. My big brother seems to think I will get into trouble without an adult to "supervise" me."

Steve cracked a smile. "I don't know much about what the young people like doing in New York but I can take you to a few art galleries and a baseball game."

"On second thought, maybe not. Sergeant Barnes' memories suggest that the former is very boring and the latter is only fun with flat beer and "hot dogs". Neither sounds like something I want to eat. I'll phone you when he's up and about. Enjoy your oatmeal, Captain!"

Steve wanted to defend his breakfast choice but she was already gone. As he started cooking again, her words sunk in. Bucky was going to be awake and soon. Steve wanted so badly to be there but if Shuri said he shouldn't, then he wouldn't. 

His oatmeal was going to be almost glue but he kept stirring, smiling at the thought that Bucky had pretended to be interested in modern art to spend time with him.

***

When he was a teenager, Steve had a few panic attacks. His hormones and his asthma played tricks on him, convincing him when he couldn't catch a breath; it meant he would never breathe again. He hadn't had one since well before the war and he expected he wouldn't have one again after receiving the serum.

On the plane back to Wakanda, Steve was 90% sure he was going to have one. He paced, trying to breathe, trying to figure out what his game plan was here. It wasn't like everything was going to go back to normal. They couldn't go back to being the boys they were in Brooklyn or even the soldiers they were during the war. This friendship was built on his inability to let go and the Winter Soldier's distant memory that Steve was worth saving. Steve had risked and given everything to protect that small fragment of him. He had thought he'd die trying to save him but now they were both alive and possibly both well. He hadn't thought this part through. He hadn't planned for his gamble to work.

The coordinates that Shuri had given brought him to a grassy clearing. He exited the jet, looking back as it rose and flew out of sight towards the Golden City. A few children raced out to look at him, one demanding he stoop down so she could touch his hair. He laughed and knelt down, letting them climb over him. 

Shuri came into sight and she affectionately shooed them away. They followed along behind them as they walked up the path. 

"Sorry," she apologized. "They've never seen someone with blonde hair before. It's good to see you again, Captain Rogers."

"Please, just Steve," he said kindly. "Thank you for...well, everything."

She waved him off. "I like a challenge. My brother gives me a white boy to fix, I fix him. I'm getting rather good at it. I've set him up in a village nearby. I've been working on a water filtration system there so I thought I'd work on them at the same time. He's a nice man, your Bucky. The locals are growing fond of him. They might not want to give him back."

Steve chuckled. "He's always been a charmer."

"The path splits here. If you follow the river half a kilometer, you will find his tent. There are a few there but I think the one-armed white man will stick out to you. Call me if you need anything. We've been invited to join for dinner in the village so make sure you don't wander off too far. Good luck, Steve."

Steve thanked her and went down the trail alone. He could hear that Shuri said something to the children in Xhosa and they laughed and chased after her instead.

Steve took a deep breath as he came up to the site. A few Wakandan men were sitting around a campfire, laughing as they cleaned their spears together. They all gave him a smile and nod before picking up their gear and walking towards the village. Steve tried to tell them they could stay. One of them replied in Xhosa, pointing further down the river. 

Steve nodded in appreciation and followed the trail further. Just ahead, he saw someone half submerged in the water. The figure dunked their head and rose to their feet, exposing everything above their thighs.

Steve did a complete 180 degrees, blushing deeply. He had seen him naked before, but not all at once. 

"Oh shit, Steve, just give me a second."

He heard Bucky rush back to the shore and fiddle with what sounded like clothes. When the noise settled, Steve turned back around and met his friend's eyes. 

Bucky's hair was partially tied back but still clung to his shoulders. He wore a colourful robe, belted around his waist. He had a beard, which was a bit surprising, but it still suited him. He looked like an entirely different man than the one Steve had left. He looked sheepish. He was smiling.

"Sorry," Bucky apologized. "No one told me you were coming." 

"No, I should have..." Steve trailed off. "Shuri just said now was a good time and I wanted to see you."

Bucky admitted, "I wanted to see you too. I..."

Steve thought the silence would kill him but he held out, waiting for Bucky to speak again. Bucky smiled and Steve's heart melted. That smile was James Buchanan Barnes'. That was the smug, self-assured grin that he had flashed a thousand times. Steve felt as if he might start crying, feeling suddenly young and vulnerable. He felt as if everything he had been holding for the past seven years was about to break and he wanted his friend, his friend who had fought for him, who had died for him, to save him one more time. 

Bucky might have moved first, but Steve closed the distance within seconds, bringing him into his arms. Bucky held him tight, his hand pushing their foreheads together. Steve broke, tears streaming down his face. He shook, sobbing, and Bucky murmured in his ear, "It's okay, Stevie. It's okay."

It was a lie. A dirtier lie than Bucky had ever told him before. But Steve lived in it, breathed it in, and let it fill his lungs. It could be okay. The hard times could be over. They had lost so much but hadn't they found each other? Hadn't they both been given another chance? 

Steve slowly stopped crying and they parted. Bucky's hand moved to Steve's neck, his thumb brushing against his pulse. 

"There's so much I need to tell you," Bucky said quietly. "How long can you stay?"

 _Not long enough._ He thought.

"Depends on when the next crisis happens," Steve replied. "I think Nat and Sam can handle things for awhile."

***

They returned to the fireside, Bucky's fellow hunters still absent. Steve sat down on a warmed stone while Bucky brought him a canteen of water. Steve drank slowly, watching Bucky stoke the fire.

"It's nearly a hundred degrees," Steve commented. "Do you really need the extra heat?"

Bucky replied, "It needs to be at the right temperature for the hunters. If you want to enjoy your dinner tonight, you're going to want that fire burning. Think of it like that first summer at the old place. We practically lived on the fire escape."

Steve took off his jacket. "I remember. You had this theory that we should be completely covered in thin white linen and tried to make us pants out of old bed sheets."

"Then we had no bed sheets and had to sleep on top of them."

Bucky sat on the rock beside Steve. His skin was still cool from the river and he pulled his damp hair into a tighter bun, pulling it away from his neck.

Bucky looked over at Steve almost nervously. "Apparently I dreamt about you a lot when I was under. When Shuri and I were getting to know each other, she asked about our relationship. A lot." 

Steve asked playfully, "Did you give her the best friends, inseparable both on the school yard and battlefield speech?" 

He shook his head, that same smile returning to his lips. "I tried, she didn't buy it. If I remember right, she started telling me how much you looked like garbage and that you had the eyes of a kicked puppy whenever she asked you about me. She said that you were as dramatic as a Nigerian soap opera." 

Steve rolled his eyes. "Were we that sassy when we were her age?"

"You were worse," Bucky laughed. "16 year old Steve Rogers had a problem with anyone who picked on anyone. I can't even remember how many times I'd either be waiting outside the detention hall for you or be in it with you."

Steve smirked. "I wasn't that bad."

"You were a real shit, Stevie."

He barked out a laugh before taking another drink. As he sipped, Bucky's smile faltered and he swallowed hard. Steve wiped his mouth on his sleeve and waited.

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck before looking back into Steve's eyes. "Thank you. Thanks for being bullheaded enough to not give up on me, punk."

"You'd do the same for me," Steve said softly. "Until the end of the line, remember?"

Bucky murmured, "Yeah, I remember. Even when I didn't know who you were...when I saw you on the bridge, I started dreaming about you. I hadn't dreamed in years but I kept dreaming about you. I was so angry. I hated you. You enraged me. I nearly killed you, Steve. I promised to always be there for you and I wanted to kill you. That's the problem with getting my memories back. I'm never going to forget what it felt like to hurt you." 

Steve didn't know what to say. He put his arm around Bucky and his friend laid his head against his chest. 

"What did you dream about?" Steve asked. 

"The last time we saw each other in the States. You were standing there with those big blue eyes shooting daggers at me. I didn't remember anything but you looking pissed and disappointed. It was like everything was frozen and I could walk around you, looking at you from every angle. You never moved, even if I yelled and screamed at you. You stood your ground, even if I pushed you. You were fixed and I couldn't get rid of you. I wanted to destroy you just so you'd budge an inch."

Steve's heart picked up its pace and it did not escape Bucky's notice.

Bucky rose from his chest and turned to face him better. Steve shivered; feeling like he couldn't breathe, but he ignored the panicked parts of his body. He needed to be here in this moment, even if it felt like hell.

"I shouldn't be telling you this," Bucky apologized, his voice threatening to break. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I'm sorry about everything, Stevie."

"Don't be," he reassured. "We're together again and you're healthy. That's all that matters to me. You've been through hell. I want you to talk about it if you need to. I want to understand."

Bucky said quietly, "You don't, Steve. You really don't."

Steve brought him back into his arms. Neither of them spoke but the silence wasn't uncomfortable. It just was.

***

Steve ate dinner in the village. Bucky was cheerful again, introducing him to all of the friends he had made even in this short time. A few spoke enough English to say hello and Steve had picked up enough Xhosa to say hi back. The children climbed all over him again, forcing Bucky to translate their questions to Steve. Most of them involved his hair and what had happened to his eyes. 

Steve followed Bucky to the hunter's camp and prepped for staying the night in his tent. The Wakandan hunters teased Bucky about something, one of them affectionately slapping him on the back. They went stayed by the fire, drinking and talking, but Bucky suggested to Steve that they go for a walk.

Steve followed Bucky deeper into trees, the moonlight guiding their steps. They reached the riverbank again and followed the source of the water. The river streamed around rocks, babbling as it passed them and journeyed towards the lights of the village. Steve paused to look back at where they had come from and realized how very alone they were. 

"Bucky, where are we going?"

Bucky assured, "Not too much further."

Steve followed him up an incline until they reached the edge of the lake. The wildness of their surroundings was obvious here. Animals called out to each other, the air buzzed with insects, and the water splashed as little frogs jumped from stone to stone.

Bucky brought him to a clear patch of grass and sat down, pointing at the night sky. Steve looked up, shocked at the sheer light of the stars. 

"No light pollution," Bucky explained. "You don't get skies like that in New York."

Steve sat down beside him, entranced by the spectacle above. He thought of Van Gogh, of how only the brightest and boldest strokes could even convey a little of the sheer shocking beauty of night. Steve could paint a hundred years and he would never come close to touching how he felt in that moment.

He put his hand on Bucky's. "It's beautiful."

"I come up here most nights," Bucky said quietly. "I like it up here. It makes me feel small."

Bucky turned to face him and Steve saw that all the hard lines of the Winter Soldier had softened. Bucky had aged too, more than Steve had. Somehow his peaceful presence made him seem even older. 

"I'm going to stay in Wakanda," Bucky revealed. "T'Challa has asked me to stay on to help train his people. They're going to be under a lot of threats they weren't before. They'll need someone who knows how the bad guys think. I can use everything I learned for good. They saved my life, Steve. Shuri saved my life. If I can help them, I want to." 

Steve was both disappointed and profoundly grateful. He would be safe here, as safe as he could be anywhere. This was the right choice and he was indebted to the Wakandan royal family for everything they had done for them both.

But Steve couldn't stay. Sam and Natasha needed him and he couldn't stand by while terrorists used stolen alien artifacts to threaten innocent people. They both had their own paths and for now, at least for now, they would have to leave each other again.

"There's something else," Bucky continued. "I...I don't know how to say this part. I told you that Shuri asked about us. It's hard to remember all of it. I'm never going to remember all of it. But I remember how I felt about you. You were my best friend and you were my family. But I don't know..."

Steve's heart stopped. "Don't know what?"

"If I knew back then that I was in love with you," Bucky admitted. 

Steve was struck with the thought that this had turned into one of the most important moments of his life. Whatever he said next would forever change their relationship. He was frozen. He couldn't speak and Bucky's words hung in the air. Bucky waited. He wasn't explaining more, not revealing more, until Steve responded.

There were a hundred things that Steve could have said, some romantic, some not, but his feelings were too tangled and complicated for words. He needed to say something, anything, before he just stared slack jawed at him.

He managed to whisper hoarsely, "Okay."

Bucky asked in confusion, "What did you say?" 

_I said, I'm a bisexual having a panic attack._

Steve tried to speak again but it came out as a long "uuuuuhhhhhh." 

Steve took a deep breath. He could do this. Bucky had gotten the hard part out now. He just had to acknowledge it, say something along the lines that he felt the same, and maybe kiss him but Steve was diving straight into panic. 

Then his eyes met Bucky's and the fear started to dissipate. Steve didn't need to be strong and bold. This was not a time for a big speech. This was a time for truth. 

Steve took Bucky's hand in his, lacing their fingers together. 

Steve confessed, "I didn't know I was in love with you until you pulled me from the river. Sam and I talked a lot. Really, really talked. I felt stupid for not realizing it sooner. It wasn't like I didn't know guys were like that but we both liked girls and we had grown up together. Of course it was going to be different, you and me, but I didn't know. I always loved you, Buck. You were my home. When we were together, it didn't matter we had nothing. I only wanted you. I've never wanted anything or anyone as much as I wanted you. I just didn't know how to say it."

Bucky let go of his hand, only giving Steve a second to react before cupping his face and pulling him into a deep kiss. Instinct took over and Steve kissed him back, placing his hand protectively on Bucky's lower back. They parted, Steve trembling.

"I don't blame you if you're scared of me," Bucky murmured. "After everything I've done, especially to you. I don't have the right to-"

Steve cut him off. "I'm not afraid of you. I just...I just want this to be perfect. After everything we've gone through, I keep thinking it can't be this easy. You can't just be healthy and happy. You can't just love me too. We can't just be here, in the most beautiful place I've ever been, kissing out in the open like teenagers. Just...this can't last. It can't just magically work out." 

Bucky brushed his nose against his. "It hasn't exactly been easy, Steve. We're safe here. No one's going to say anything and no one's coming after us. Wakanda has its own heroes. It doesn't need us to save the day right now. We can just be us. For the first time. Just you and me." 

Bucky kissed him again and Steve groaned, grasping at him. 

Steve whispered, "I love you. I love you so much it hurts. But I can't do this now, not yet. This is really big deal for me. You know that."

Bucky agreed with a smirk, "I know. Even after everything you've seen, you're still Catholic."

Steve laughed, even as he blushed. "There's that too. I just mean that I've never done this before with a guy. I don't want to hurt either of us."

Bucky assured, "Then let's not do this right now."

"No, we can, I just-"

"Steve. I've waited seventy years for you. I can wait a little longer."

Steve hesitated. He really had no idea what he was doing and he was emotionally exhausted from the conversation. But what if this was their last chance? What if they were taken from each other again?

Bucky said more firmly, "Steve, I've made the decision. Not tonight." 

Steve flopped onto his back and pulled Bucky down on his chest. He kissed the top of his head and Bucky curled into him, resting his hand on his belly. It was an old gesture, one Bucky used to do to encourage him to breathe. Bucky knew what he needed. He always had. Steve needed him the same way Bucky needed the night skies of Wakanda. There was a comfort in feeling small. 

They didn't talk about the past, not even the events of the past few months. They didn't speak of the future, not even the upcoming days. They spoke of those moments. Of the way Bucky's hand felt against his skin. Of the cooling breeze through the trees. Of the stars in the night sky. They lived in that moment without acknowledging any other, knowing that while they might not be the type of men that had happy endings, they could be the ones who had happy middles.

**Author's Note:**

> In a comic tie-in, Shuri says to T'Challa that her algorithm will actually help their artificial intelligence projects and disses Tony Stark's creation of Ultron. I figured that Shuri may not pass that information along to Cap. Also I did not know that when I first wrote that line and just went with it. Also, this fic is not good. Just saying. But like I'm going to be emotionally destroyed in May so I need to process that now.
> 
> Edit: so like in the middle of the night, I had like the weirdest sudden realization/remembrance as I almost silently whispered to myself "the Dodgers don't play in Brooklyn anymore". So that's changed just to a "baseball" game.


End file.
